


Demo's lover is called Jacques 2

by 2xcross



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Presents, TV reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2xcross/pseuds/2xcross
Summary: A very late anniversary celebration.That's a quite weird title, isn't it? It’s a retelling from an excerpt ofanotherof my fics (in Spanish though).
Relationships: Demoman/Soldier (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Demo's lover is called Jacques 2

**Author's Note:**

> I made this on Thursday, more than a year later from the first fic, before I completely forget how to write.

“Soldier...”

He stays quiet. Both are in the floor of the storage room, and it’s most likely they will pass the night there. It’s not like they are drunk (well, Demo presumably is at least a little tipsy), it just happened to be the place where they both crashed after wrestling for the sake of doing it... If there used to be a petty reason, none remembered it anymore.

Well, Soldier doesn’t want to move, being very comfy with his head on Demo’s chest.

“Ach, I know ye heard me. Don’t pretend ye didn’t.”

He tries to not, but Soldier can’t help to giggle.

“Me back hurts,” Demo complains, as Soldier has expected.

“Haven’t you slept in bad places before? I thought you bragged about that...”

“I’ve, in fact, slept in probably _much_ worse places than _you_.” They like to compete about anything, including about things others wouldn’t really be proud about. “But _on me side_.” Putting his head on whatever improvised pillow.

“So many words to say that you’re getting rusty, mister.”

To be fair, both are a bit too old for this... That’s how Soldier knows life, on the other hand. 

Demoman groans, loudly. “I’m nae lettin’ ye leave me alone so easily.”

“I’m not sleepy!”

In a sudden manner, Demo pushes Soldier off of him. Soldier sits instead, grunting, while Demo changes to his side. Finding no possible pillow, he puts his head on Soldier’s lap.

“Much better.”

“What about me?”

“There isn’t some boxes behind? Don’t ye like sleepin’ awfully so much?”

“But you were just bragging...!”

He doesn’t finishes his phrase. He has had enough of going in circles for today. Soldier leans on one of those big boxes with chains, that usually contained barely one mann co. weapon or mann co. hat: what a waste of a perfect box.

“I’m still not sleepy,” he repeats.

“Okay, okay, I’ve a good question. Lemme remember it...”

Demo peeks up, finding Soldier’s eyes bellow his helmet for half a second. He observes around...

“Fuck.”

The calendar he has found with his one-eye sight hasn’t been changed since 1968, freezed in time. To be fair, who’d remember about it, abandoned in the storage room, since two years ago.

“You forgot your question?”

“No, it’s just... Since _when_ , ye know, we are together?”

“That’s easy: since we’re working,” answers Soldier with confidence.

“Not like that.”

“ _Oh..._ ”

He couldn't be sure. Soldier has enjoyed every second of the last few years—except when he gets _too_ hurt to be enjoyable, the pain too unbearable to be tolerated for even him. The job giving him the opportunity to know Tavish makes everything much better. He could also say, _damn_ perfect.

Demo gets him. Soldier couldn’t ask for more.

“I don’t remember when, but I can remember _how_.”

Demoman snorts, then covers his mouth with one hand, still snickering. Soldier, giggling as well, beams from ear to ear. He begins caressing Demo’s beard with his thumb. 

_What if we stop pretending we don’t remember after we drunk kiss?_

They always liked each other, things evolved from there naturally.

“Ye know, it’s weird. I think I’m only now realizing that we really are, a... _couple_.”

The last word came as barely a sigh. Tavish holds his breath, noticing how Soldier has stop moving.

“... _Damn._ ”

“Right?!”

Demo resumes laughing, nervously. God, they could be so stupid at times. He places his hand over Soldier’s thigh, who puts his free hand over it in response, stroking Demo’s beard again with the other. They intertwine their fingers together.

“But Demo.”

“What?”

“We haven’t really...” Soldier clears his throat.

“True, but that’s okay... ” he smirks. “I mean, where I _haven’t_ , touched ye, anyway?”

Soldier titters, blushing a little. He stares down, directly into Demo’s eye.

“What about where _I_ haven’t touched you, private?”

The man below him cracks up, with his typical devilish giggling, that Soldier adores. He joins the mischievous laughing. Demo moves his hand to Soldier’s face, to gently touch his lower lip, from one corner to another, while staring at him. This makes both men quiet.

Then, Demoman removes himself from Soldier’s lap, back to the floor. Soldier follows with his eyes every move.

“Come here, Jane...”

\----

“Ye owe me anniversary gifts,” says suddenly Demo, when both are sitting on a bench of the showers, after a working day has come to an end.

“What?”

“What I've just say, deaf.”

Soldier squints his eyes. 

“Are you serious? What about all the heads I’ve given you?”

Demo shuts his eye tight briefly. “ _No!_ Those don’t count...”

Mum must think he’s one of those tv news serial killers at this point, making holes all over their yard—and the _smell_. _Oh God the smell._

“What about the ears?”

“No...”

“And the...”

“Soldier. _I’m sorry,_ but I don’t want nothing that has to do with corpses anymore. I’ve enough, and they rot...”

“No if you...”

“ _Soldier._ ”

He grunts, annoyed. “You’re pulling my leg, we don’t even have an anniversary date!”

“Exactly! We have missed them all!”

Soldier raises one finger, trying to protest.

“Well, it’s bullcrap. That’s what it is, all of that.”

_Are ye really that pissed ‘bout the goddamn heads?_

“Well,” Demo repeats, “don’t worry ‘cause I was jokin’ anyway.”

He covers his head with his hair towel, refusing to look at Soldier. His man doesn’t like those ‘sentimental crap’, and that isn’t probably going to change. 

“...What’d you want anyway?”

Demo freezes, removing the towel again. The other problem is that, on the other hand, he’s _too_ sentimental. He couldn’t answer flowers, for example, or that’s what he thinks.

He opens and closes his mouth, not sure in what to say. He doesn’t care about things, so food should be easy. Demo has always liked salty or greasy food better, but after keeping a few chocolates that he didn’t get to give to an ex, or after buying two samples—one for him—for another ex that actually received the candy, he developed a taste for the most stereotypical romantic present after flowers.

“I dunno man. Chocolate should be fine.”

Soldier scoffs. “I thought you were going to say roses or something like that.”

Demo covers his head again. “Forget ‘bout it.”

“ _I’m not_. Just tell me which type you would like, I’ll remember.”

Is most likely he won’t.

Demo sighs. “Ah, anythin’ should be fine.”

“You didn’t like my heads...” 

“I did! The first few times.”

Seeing that Soldier is not going to accept an anything as an answer, in the case he does remember to buy it, Demo knows well that he will bring a common chocolate bar that he will love regardless. It’s the gesture that’s important, so he isn’t lying about liking the corpse pieces, the first few times.

“Forget about the chocolates. A bottle should be fine, right?” Demo grins, moving the piece of cloth away from his face.

“I’m not encouraging your vice.”

“ _What?!_ ” snaps Demo. “I’ve given ye cigars before!”

“Negatory, I’m not giving you alcohol this time.” That can’t be the only present, not anymore. “Just tell me some examples of snacks, it’s not like you’re going to eat ‘em alone after all.”

Soldier giggles.

“Fine, ye asked...”

Demo goes on a rant, mentioning chocolate truffles, then rum balls. He changes his mind again and talks about liquor filled bonbons. Cherry cognac bonbons, are one of his examples.

Soldier pays as much attention as he can, slowly getting dress again.

\----

As soon as Soldier tells Demo that he has his gift, Demo in his free time—from the battles and making bombs—puts everything ready in the storage room, for a mini celebration. The rest of the team already knows to leave them alone when they go there. The duo would go to one of the many abandoned places around the base, but risking not surviving the cold of the desert at night isn’t worth it.

After dinner (and eating less to leave space in his stomach), Soldier goes into their agreed place. At the end of the room, Demoman is waiting with a folding table for two, with two stools, Demo already sitting in one. In the middle of the table there is a red box with a ribbon over it, and at the side of the table, a yet untouched six pack beer mock-up, with a package of chips. For the smell, Soldier could tell it was already open.

“You shouldn’t have skipped dinner!”

“I do what I want!”

Soldier wrinkles his nose, meanwhile he sits on the other stool.

“Very fancy, right?” continues Demo. “I was goin’ to use candles, but Pyro used all. Now that I think ‘bout it, I could’ve made ‘em. I should’ve thought ‘bout that soo—”

“What’s in that box?” If he doesn’t say what’s in his mind soon enough, he forgets.

Demo looks down, smiling. “This thing?” He points at it with both of his index fingers. “Ye thought I wasn’t gonna give ye somethin’?” he asks, baffled.

“I didn’t ask for anything. You were the one—”

“It’s an anniversary celebration! Of course I’m gonna give ye somethin’ too!”

His smile fades when he sees that Soldier is empty-handed.

Soldier blinks several times under his helmet, before standing so fast that he sends away flying the already in poor shape stool. He goes next one of the big boxes, throws the lid away and puts half of his body in. Soldier retrieves a simply cardboard box, with the perfect size for a... head.

Demoman gulps. _Oh God Please Not Again—_ he can’t just drop it in acid without offending Soldier.

With a few strides Soldier is back near the table. With one hand he places the poor stool again, holding the box near his body with the other. Once he’s sitting, he shakes the box, with a beam on his face.

“Let’s count to three.”

“Okay...”

_One... Two... Three..._

Demoman takes the top of the red box, revealing a cake under it. At the same time, Soldier turns over the box on his hands and drops a blue bowling ball over the cake. The cake cream spatters the table and both mercenaries clothes.

They stare at mess for a few seconds.

“I’m...” Demo breaks the silence. “I’m so glad I wasn’t wearin’ nice clothes for once.”

He has ruined so many nice clothes in previous dates. Thankfully, it isn’t a head again either.

“We still can eat the cake,” Soldier says. “But first you should check your present!”

“Okay...”

He takes the ball, but it slips from his hands back to the squashed cake. Demo glimpses up, finding Soldier still looking at him excited, so he tries to rotate the sphere. Below the two holes that are next to each other, there is a name:

**J A N E**

“ _What?!_ ”

Demo is perplexed by this. Could’ve Jane bring a gift to himself? Since when Soldier cared about bowling? How this could have anything to do with chocolate?

He has to make a conscious effort to not get mad. It couldn’t be on purpose, there has to be some explanation—besides, he’s the one that talked about rum balls before. It could be that?

“You disliked it?” inquiries Soldier, his face devoid of expression.

“I’m—”

Demo hides his mouth behind both of his hands, trying to think before talking.

“I... I just don’t understand, Soldier.”

“It’s a ball,” he deadpans.

“I mean _why_ , why you gave me this.”

“That’s easy...” 

Soldier pauses, scratching his neck. He swallows, almost as if grasping how weird the whole situation is. Demo smiles a little, softened. 

After exhaling, Soldier carries on: 

“When I was looking for your present, I found instead a new bowling place. Stupid, I know: real sports are played outdoors!” Demoman nods. “I still got in, to see how it was inside. Some four-eyes teen asked me if I wanted to play. I yelled him that I wasn’t there to waste my time.”

Demo chuckles.

“Who’s talking?”

“Ach, just go on.”

“I yelled him that I was looking for a present. And that’s how I got the ball. The end.”

Still quite confused, Demoman rotates the ball to Soldier.

“That’s _your_ name, luv,” he points out.

“I...” Soldier turns his face to the side. He lowers his voice. “When he asked me for a name, I realized that I’m not sure how to spell yours.”

Demo gets a knot on his stomach. Placing his elbows on the table, he leans his forehead on his hands.

“I’m so, sorry. I forgot...”

His best friend isn’t completely illiterate, nevertheless he struggles a lot. Soldier can have a somewhat phobia to books, possibly from of events from his childhood that he doesn’t even remember. Demo could understand, it took a few months to pick up a book again after losing one eye to a haunted book.

And he forgot. How inconsiderate of him.

Demo begins sniffing. “Oh my God, I’m sorry...”

Soldier tenses, alarmed.

“You don’t need to apologize, not even once. I’m not even angry!” He sees a single tear falling through Demo's cheek. “Come on, I hate to see you like this...”

It wasn’t the first time, definitely. Still, each time it didn’t fail to freak him up, not knowing what to do. Soldier doesn’t get that by staying is more than enough for Demoman.

“At least tell me if you’ll go with me to bowling alley by the end of the month.”

Demo lifts his head. He nods, and grabs one of Soldier’s hand. “Of course,” he manages to answer. “I will. I will...” He glances at the bowling ball. “I love your blue ba...”

He snorts, starting like that to laugh, as he wasn’t just weeping before. Not the first time he does something like that either.

Soldier snatches his hand from Demo. “Oh my God...” A bad choice of color, apparently.

“I’ll stop, I promise...”

Demo shifters on the tool, until he is more collected.

“What do we do with what’s left of the cake?” asks Soldier. “I’m sorry, by the way,” he adds quicky.

“I don’t think we’ll need the cardboard dishes I brought here.”

“Why do you brought a cake though?”

“Ye owe me chocolate now.”

“...Damnit.” 

Just as Demo predicted, he forgot.

“I couldn’t find cupcakes, that’s why is a cake. And...”

Demo gasps. He hides his mouth again. _Now what?_

“It wasn’t just ‘cause that. I thought that ye haven’t celebrate a birthday ‘cause ye don’t know yer real...”

He curses below his breath, making a pout.

Soldier stares blankly, processing what Demo has just said. Not so much longer later, he clutches both of Demo’s hands to hold them over the table. He gives him a watery smile.

“Thank you...” His voice is barely audible. 

“I’m so sorry man...”

Demoman is shedding tears again. The inner corners of his brows are angled upwards, and there is a line between them. 

“ _Why?_ ” _Why? Why? Why?_

“I feel like I don’t let _you_ be emotional.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Still smiling, Soldier takes one of Demo’s hands next to his face. Feeling humidity, Demo wipes a single tear from Soldier’s cheek with his thumb. Then Soldier holds the other’s hand much closer, pressing it lightly. He leans his head in it, closing his eyes for a while, as Demoman continues tenderly petting his face. 

Some time later, he stretches his own hand to wipe dry Demo’s tears. He turns around to kiss Soldier in his palm.

They both titter, as they move back to their previous positions. Demo asks Soldier for the bowling ball box, so they can see what they can do with the remains of the poor cake.

“I haven’t try your cake yet,” Soldier grabs a handful of it, putting it almost whole in his mouth. Not much later he licks his lips. “It’s good. Sorry again that I...”

“It’s okay.” Demo eats a piece too, humming when savoring it. 

Before he can even try to explain where he got it, Soldier stains Demo’s face with cream. 

“...I’d lie if I said that I’m surprised by what ye just did.”

His partner stands up to lean over him, looking down with a crooked grin on his face. He grins back to him...

**Author's Note:**

> Reference to [_"Life On The Fast Lane"_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_on_the_Fast_Lane), or _"Jacques to Be Wild"_ from the first season of The Simpsons.


End file.
